


In the Service of the King

by marguerite_26



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon, Coercion, Exhibitionism, M/M, Underage Sex, Virginity, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-04
Updated: 2012-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 03:18:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/351350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marguerite_26/pseuds/marguerite_26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Arthur looked at his new servant he wondered just who thought this boy’s spirit had been broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Service of the King

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Kinkspiration - Round 4: Underage](http://marguerite-26.livejournal.com/640451.html). Thanks to [](http://novemberlite.livejournal.com/profile)[**novemberlite**](http://novemberlite.livejournal.com/) for the beta.
> 
> Additional warnings: Age Disparity has Arthur 30, Merlin 15. Brief, though explicit moments of Arthur/OFC and Arthur/OMC
> 
> Originally posted Feb 1, 2012

King Arthur was convinced his new servant had a death wish.

He’d seen the marks on his back when he’d been dragged into the courtyard with Lord Farland’s party. The child was stubborn as a mule, Lord Farland had snarled to Arthur when he’d commented. Arthur had simply nodded, not needing the details. The process of breaking a man was unseemly.

There had been a spark in the boy’s eye that was pleasing, and Arthur, in a moment of whimsy, had requested the boy’s services for the royal household. He might thrive out from under Lord Farland’s whip. Then again, Arthur thought as the boy’s chin rose in defiance at his new master’s perusal, he might just find himself in the stocks.

Now, as the servant bent at the hearth cursing and muttering to himself about too many stairs and impossible jobs, sore knees and too many buckets to fill a prince’s bath -- as though Arthur wasn’t soaking in said bath, well within earshot -- he wondered just who thought this servant’s spirit had been broken.

Arthur would suggest a gag if that mouth wasn’t quite so pretty. Sinking lower in the bath, Arthur hummed with pleasure at the steaming water sloshing up his chest. He closed his eyes and listened with a half-smile as the servant bustled about the room with neither grace nor care. He was … amusing. Arthur peeked one eye open at the sound of yet another log being added to a fire that hadn’t quite risen enough.

“Stop fiddling with the fire before you smother it.” Arthur watched the boy school the flash of annoyance on his face, and added, “Come wash my hair.”

The servant worked the lather into Arthur’s hair, his fingers surprisingly strong and confident for one so young. The boy couldn’t have seen sixteen winters yet. Arthur had already been given charge of his first campaign when this boy was at his mother’s teat.

Arthur felt his eyes flutter closed as he exhaled, letting the tingle of pressure points on his scalp steal away the last of the day’s stress. Perhaps this is what saved this servant’s neck: being just clever enough with his fingers to sooth his master’s frustrations at each impertinence. The blunt tip of the boy’s nails scratched gently behind Arthur’s ear, making him lean into the touch and hum his approval.

Sudden stirrings of arousal sent Arthur’s thoughts wondering to Rebecca, a pretty scullery maid. She was always eager to warm the king’s bed when the need arose. The idea formed fully in his head and by the time he stood and stepped out of the bath, he was more than eager for a bit of release.

As he was towelled off, Arthur watched the boy steal glances at his full cock, and heat pooled in Arthur’s groin at the sight of the tips of the servant’s ears and the back of his neck turning red.

Rubbing Arthur’s thighs down with a drying cloth, the servant was knelt with his face intimately close to Arthur’s erection.

“What’s your name, boy?” Arthur’s voice came out rough, his tone sharper than he’d intended.

Flustered, the boy looked up and needed to reach out his hand to the floor behind him to stop from toppling over. “Merlin, Sire,” he said.

“Tell me, _Merlin_ , are you inept at everything?”

Merlin blinked at him, mouth opening in a way that might be a seduction on anyone else. On this boy, though, it was guileless, and somehow all the more successful at piquing Arthur’s interest for its lack of intent.

“I’m good at... some things,” he stammered at last, flushed full red now.

“And how are you at sucking cock? You certainly have the mouth for it.”

The outraged face made Arthur laugh with delight. Merlin, still kneeling, gaped as though unable to formulate a reply. Arthur felt the thrum of his blood through his viens, like in the moment he’d targeted a deer and it turned to look him in the eye, helpless as the arrow sliced the air.

He traced a finger along Merlin’s jaw, smirking. “Well, it appears to always be open.”

Merlin’s jaw snapped shut with a click of teeth.

“Well?” Arthur asked, feeling oddly playful with this boy who seemed more full of cheek than he’d ever seen in a servant. “Willing to prove yourself?” He shifted his weight, jutting his hips to emphasize his point.

A shadow crossed over Merlin’s face as his head bowed, his brow marred with a frown. He looked impossibly young. Frail.

The pull in the taut muscles in the back of the boy’s neck and the slight tremble to his breathing were a cold splash down Arthur’s spine. An adrenaline-induced bubble of laughter died in his chest, and his teasing smile flattened. He was King of Camelot, and a man’s life or death could be decided over his breakfast any given morning -- but he did not _order_ anyone to his bed.

“You may go,” Arthur said, his voice brittle.

The boy looked him in the eye, considering him for a moment, his lips pressing tight as if he were weighing Arthur’s sincerity or whether he’d be dragged from his bed in the middle of the night for ten lashes.

Arthur found he couldn’t meet the boy’s gaze for long before the prickle of shame warmed his nape. He cleared his throat, turning away and stalked toward the pile of his night clothes left by the fire to warm.

“I said you may go,” he said pointedly, wanting the temptation removed before he changed his mind.

The boy must have had a hidden reserve of self-preservation beneath it all because he didn’t stay long. By the time Arthur had dressed himself, the room was empty.

Rain pattered on the window pane, loud and lonely in the empty room. He considered calling for Rebecca but the twist in his gut at the boy’s reaction had dampened his interest for the night. He retired early, but sleep eluded him.

Arthur huffed at himself for letting the situation disturb him. The boy was too young and Arthur wasn’t one take a servant’s innocence just for the pleasure of being the first, though given the lashes on his back and prettiness of his eyes it was a surprise that the boy had any innocence left to take.

Arthur punched his pillow, which seemed to be full of lumps that evening, and concluded he’d already spent more time than necessary thinking on the incident. It had been a momentary weakness and lapse in judgement on Arthur’s part, being taken in by a lovely pair of lips.

~o~

Two days later, Arthur finally gave in to frustration and summoned Rebecca to his chambers. He was sitting at his desk, poring over tedious crop reports when she entered.

She smiled sweetly as she crossed the room, sat upon his lap and asked, “How might I please you tonight, Sire.”

Arthur grinned, dug his fingers about her waist and pulled her closer, knowing _this_ was how it was supposed to go.

Rebecca was a lovely woman, soft skin and full breasts. She moaned as Arthur touched them and tugged at the laces of her dress, and squirmed as he tilted his hips to make his intentions clear.

He’d just opened his mouth to suggest they move to his bed chambers when the door opened and Merlin entered, arms stacked with firewood.

Their eyes met and Arthur _felt_ the moment Merlin understood what he’d just walked in on. He watched Merlin’s cheeks pink and rolled his hips to press up against Rebecca’s full bottom.

Merlin was quick to break eye contact. He made for the door, head bowed, but something made Arthur say, “Stay. I’ll need you to clean up this mess.”

Merlin’s eyes widened, focusing on Arthur, then on Rebecca whose breast was cupped in Arthur’s hand. He didn’t look to be in such a hurry to leave any more.

It sent a thrill down Arthur’s spine; a captive audience always did. He swept the desk behind Rebecca’s back. Quills, ink and notes crashed to the floor in a splattered mess. She squeaked in surprise, her eyes wide. And Arthur captured her mouth in a kiss as he laid her out on the smooth wood. She laughed at his eagerness and helped him as he fumbled with the layers of her dress, tugging at her smalls, and gasped as he pressed his thumb inside to find her wet.

Arthur’s eyes flickered to Merlin. He stood frozen by the door, one hand still on the handle and the other pressed over his breeches doing a poor job of hiding his interest. His eyes were glazed as he stared across the room.

The angle was perfect as Arthur wrapped Rebecca’s legs around his waist and thrust inside.

He whispered into her ear, “Should we teach the boy a thing or two?”

Rebecca arched so she could see Merlin by the door, and her breast burst free from her unlaced dress at the movement.

Arthur flicked a rosy nipple with his tongue and felt her squeeze around his cock. “I’m not sure if his balls have yet dropped.”

Her laughter was a soft trill. “He’s not so young as all that, your highness. I can see it in his eyes.”

Sweat dripped down his temple. He could feel the dampness gather on his upper lip and soak through his tunic as he rutted. He watched Merlin across the room.

“Would he be in my place, do you think, given the chance?”

Rebecca moaned, her words no more than breathy gasps. “Or mine.”

Arthur gripped her hips harder, finding himself unexpectedly close already.

“Well?” he called over to the boy. “What are you waiting for?” At Merlin’s puzzled look, Arthur nodded towards the mess on the floor by the table.

Awkwardly, his hand still over his crotch -- hyperaware, Arthur was sure of both eyes on him -- Merlin made his way over.

Merlin was trying to keep his head bowed. He knelt at Arthur’s feet, dabbing at the splodge of ink, but his eyes kept flitting to the desk that was creaking precariously and threatening to collapse.

When Arthur came, it was with his eyes fixed on the twitching muscle of Merlin’s jaw and on Merlin’s palm, which was pressed to the bulge at his groin.

Rebecca was always discreet. She fixed herself up, blushing prettily, and left with a soft pat to Merlin’s head and a _next time, love_.

Merlin stood, a wet spot obviously sweeping through at the crotch of his breeches. “Um.” His eyes were still on the floor, presenting Arthur with little more than the red tips of his ears to look at.

Arthur straightened his clothes and poured wine into a goblet. “Do you have something to say, Merlin?”

Merlin shifted his weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable before finally blurting out, “I –- I have to go,” and darting for the door.

Arthur’s laughter chased him out, loud and rich. After taking a long sip of wine, he looked down to the floor to see the crop report he’d been making notes on for the council meeting tomorrow covered in ink and illegible. He cursed and decided that no matter how entertaining, young, pretty servants were too much excitement for an old king to deal with.

Despite this conviction, over the next few weeks Arthur found himself tangled in a sort of game his young servant. Merlin wasn’t the best servant, often late and definitely clumsy, inarticulate with a propensity to rattle on when he should be silent. Arthur liked him all the more for it. He was as amusing as he was nice to look at, and Arthur’s attraction was fuelled by Merlin’s interest, written plainly on his face. Whether it was in the brush of his hand while removing the king’s armour, or the brightness of his smile waking him in the mornings; it was certainly in the blush of his cheeks while watching Arthur bed another servant.

Today when Merlin entered with Arthur’s afternoon meal, it was James, a stable hand, who was bent over Arthur’s bed. James was tall and lanky, not much older than Merlin. He had seemed eager enough, if a bit dull during the act itself.

The breakfast plates were set down with a clatter.

“Merlin.”

Merlin was at the door, a footstep away from escape. “Yes, Sire?”

“I’ll need you to change these sheets. They’re filthy.”

“Yes, Sire.” Merlin turned, flushed and pleading to be allowed to leave. “Anything else?”

Arthur looked at Merlin, eyebrow raised. “Anything you would like, Merlin?”

Merlin pressed his lips tight, but that only showed off his cheekbones and the brightness of his cheeks on his pale face. His breathing was shallow, eyes flaring with heat.

“Come here, Merlin.”

With a whimper, Merlin moved to stand by the bed.

Arthur slowed his thrusts so Merlin could get a good look at his dick slipping deep into James’ arse. If Merlin dared to peek -- which he would because if there was anything Merlin had shown him in the last few weeks it was: no matter how outraged he was at being asked to stand by and watch, he always gave in in the end. And he always met Arthur’s eyes just before he came.

“Tell me what you brought me for breakfast.”

Merlin cleared his throat, scowled and started to list off: “Ham, bread...”

But Arthur wasn’t listening to the details, only letting the breathless, frustrated voice wash over him. His eyes shut, the slow rhythm getting impossible to maintain with Merlin right beside him, his voice hitching with each of Arthur’s groans. It was too much.

Merlin remained at his side while Arthur arched over James’ body and filled his arse with come. He quietly stepped away as the moment passed and their bodies cooled, giving them privacy to clean up and dress.

Not another word was spoken until Arthur was tucked into his meal and Merlin was just smoothing out the fresh sheets on bed.

Merlin walked over, wringing his hands as he stood before Arthur. “Permission to speak frankly, Sire?” Which, Arthur assumed, meant he was hoping not to be flogged for his boldness.

Arthur stared a minute. “Permission granted.”

“Is he the sort that you enjoy, Sire?” He motioned towards the bed.

“And you could do better?” Arthur asked, incredulous at this inexperienced boy’s audacity. “I somehow doubt that.”

A wide grin spread on Merlin’s face, making him look young again, despite the topic. “I could never beat James in his ability to agree with anything you say.” He rubbed the back of his neck, as though questioning if he’d gone too far, hen ploughed on, “He closes his eyes, bends over and thinks of which stable ought to be mucked next while you go about your business.”

Arthur coughed, his cheeks warm. He set down his fork and rose from the table. “And what would you be thinking of, Merlin, if you were to enter my bed?”

“I—I don’t...” His voice wavered but when his eyes met Arthur’s they were determined. “I’ve never.”

He stepped closer so that Arthur could feel the heat radiating off him. “No, I don’t suppose you have.” Arthur’s fingers curled at Merlin’s nape, twisting into the fine hair at the base of his skull. Merlin’s eyes fluttered shut.

Arthur liked Merlin’s eyes defiant and his jaw proud, but when Merlin let out a broken sigh and leaned into Arthur for the first time, his chest warmed in a way it hadn’t in years.

“You’ll let me teach you?” he whispered, peppering kisses along the sharp jut of Merlin’s collarbone. “You’ll let me show you how good it can feel?”

The hair on Merlin’s body was soft and sparse and Arthur couldn’t stop running his hands over it, touching everything he could reach as he peeled away the boy’s clothes.

“Sire,” Merlin said and the sound of it made Arthur’s teeth close on Merlin’s neck and he sucked until the skin was angry purple and Merlin was looking at him like he was part beast. He flashed a toothy smile and directed Merlin over to the bed, and spread him out on the fresh linen.

Arthur’s first thought was of those lips, now red and kiss-swollen, and how they would feel pressed to the tip of his cock, how they would look coated and glistening with pre-come. How they would feel stretched wide around his girth, as Merlin looked up with watery, panicked eyes, Arthur’s cock knocking the back of his throat. He squeezed himself through his breeches just to relieve the pressure in his aching cock at the thought.

But the sight of the boy’s nearly bare chest, the slight frame, pale skin and ribs Arthur wanted to count with the flick of his tongue changed his mind. He flipped Merlin onto his stomach.

Merlin muttered his confusion as Arthur’s mouth travelled everywhere. He nosed at each bump of the boy’s spine, rubbed his stumble along the smooth expanse of skin. Beneath him, Merlin squirmed as he pressed kisses to the long silver strips that decorated the boy’s back.

He worked his way lower, and lower still, until the gentle rise of Merlin’s arse brushed his chin.

The boy stilled. “What are you--”

Arthur kissed Merlin’s cleft, darting his tongue between the arse cheeks just for a tease. Arthur whispered, “Just a finger.” He held out his middle finger for Merlin to wet. “Just a finger this time.”

Merlin’s arse was beautiful, smooth and pert and as hairless as a woman’s. It made Arthur’s pulse thunder in his ears. Merlin opened his mouth and let Arthur push the finger inside. Merlin’s tongue poked at the intrusion, as blunt and bold at anything Merlin did, then he sealed his lips around the knuckle and sucked. Arthur’s breath hitched, his cock pressing at his laces as he rocked into Merlin’s thigh.

“Has anyone ever done this to you, Merlin?”

Merlin opened his mouth, letting the finger slip free. “No.”

Arthur looked at the glistening finger. It would be enough. “Turn over, then. I want to see your face.”

A blush crept down from Merlin’s neck, spreading in blotchy patches across his chest to the spattering of hair above each nipple. His Adam’s apple bobbing with each thick swallow, he bent his legs at first, then he laid them out straight and then bent again.

Arthur placed a hand on his knee and smirked. “Like this,” he said, trailing his fingernails down the sensitive skin of Merlin’s inner thigh until he reached the wrinkled sack. He held it in his palm, rolling it in his fingers.

“Oh.” The sound came from between Merlin’s lips like a breathy moan. His face went slack and his knees fell open.

It was all the invitation Arthur needed. He found Merlin’s hole, his wet fingers circling the furrowed muscle. “This all right?” Arthur asked just to force the nod the Merlin, and get that blush burning a little brighter.

He catalogued every reaction, the way Merlin’s lips parted, the tensing of every muscle at the intensity, the newness of the sensation. And as he pushed in, the way his nostrils flared and his hips tilted. He held Merlin’s gaze through it all. He had a way of looking at Arthur, piercing him in a way that went so far beyond his years. Arthur had to wonder if it was all a trick. If this boy was nothing of the sort -- an old soul trapped in a young body.

He felt the trembling of Merlin’s leg pressed alongside his own, and he tore his eyes from Merlin’s. He focused instead on his fingertip as it disappeared into the tight clutch of the boy’s virgin hole. He hooked a hand under Merlin’s knee, pushing up and forcing his arse on display.

“Don’t,” Merlin whined, trying to squirm out from under Arthur’s gaze.

“None of that.” Arthur laughed. “You are far too perfect like this to hide.”

Arthur spread him wider, moving to settle between Merlin’s knees. He was grateful he’d kept his breeches tied or he was sure he’s just plunder him right now, and scare this frightened little bird off forever. And this particular catch he really wanted to keep, more than he’d wanted anything for a long time.

His free hand went to Merlin’s cock. He held him loosely, just enough of a distraction, a slow pump up and then down, and then with a twist of his wrist of his other hand he sunk the finger to the knuckle.

Merlin dug his heels into the bed, arching his body and crying out. He slapped Arthur’s hand away from his cock and pumped it furiously, coating his belly with come. Arthur cursed, his body thrumming at the sight and he pulled at his laces until his found his cock. Leaning over Merlin, he tugged at his cock, watching Merlin watch his hand until he spilled, adding to the mess.

He pressed his forehead to Merlin’s shoulder, dragging in ragged breaths as his heart rate calmed. Merlin tugged at his hair until Arthur lifted his head enough that Merlin could press his troublesome lips to Arthur’s. He kept his eyes open, nervous, as though kissing the king might be treason if not done properly.

Arthur collapsed on the bed beside Merlin, wiping his brow with the back of his forearm.

The room was silent but for the bustle of the courtyard below the open window. The candle mark told Arthur he was late for that afternoon’s council meeting. Someone was bound to come looking for him soon. Shirking duties to bed a fifteen year old boy was just the sort of tale to spread like wildfire through the castle. He should get up. Instead, he turned to his side so he could trail a hand up Merlin’s side, over the sharp angle of his hipbone and down again to his smooth thigh, enjoying the tickle of the soft hair beneath his palm.

“You have gentle hands for a king.”

Arthur looked down at his sword-calloused fingers and imagined the rough scratch of his fingertips on young skin and wondered if Merlin was mocking him.

Snorting, Merlin folded his hand over Arthur’s. “That’s not what I meant, Sire.” He turned his hand so that the sunlight caught the faint jagged scars circling his wrists.

Arthur vowed to turn down the next trade negotiation with Lord Farland,

“You do test one’s patience, Merlin,” Arthur said, his voice thick with regret that Merlin had suffered under any other master. He cleared his throat, trying to keep his voice light. “It’s amazing you survived at all under Lord Farland’s hand. You’re a terrible servant.”

Merlin made a grand show of being affronted, but his eyes turned coy. “And I suppose you are willing to teach me?”

Arthur grinned, knowing he was in over his head with this boy. “Impossible tasks intrigue me.”

When the knock came requesting his presence in the council chambers, Arthur ignored it.

 


End file.
